Peace, Hope, and Joy
by Ryl
Summary: Stephanie is being dragged along on Lula's mission to bring peace, hope, and joy to the people around her. Can this possibly end well?
1. Peace

Written for Babecakesrus' December Prize Winning Challenge on the theme of Peace, Hope, and Love and originally posted December 2011.

Edited by the lovely Stayce.

**Peace, Hope, and Joy**

**Part One: Peace**

I watched as my skip took off down the street, a set of cuffs dangling from his wrists, and then turned to Lula.

"Any particular reason why you didn't even try to stop him?" I asked, trying to keep calm. This should have been easy! Ronald Bailey was a first time offender who lived in his mom's basement. He'd been caught shoplifting a video game. Did I mention he was forty-three? And that he led a sedentary life? Well, probably that was self-explanatory after the video game thing.

"See, now that's just wrong," she said, placing her hand on her more than ample hip. "He just took that video game because he needed a present for his nephew. Ain't nothing wrong with wanting to give a kid a nice Christmas."

"There is if you have to steal to do it!" I exclaimed. "And did you see the basement? He wasn't giving that game to his nephew. He was playing it!"

"Huh," she said, staring down the street where he'd disappeared. "Now I feel kinda bad. On account of how I let him slip past me."

"Wearing my cuffs," I added. "I can't afford to replace those!"

"You just don't have the holiday spirit," she said, shaking her red and white hair. I think she was aiming for candy cane when she had it coloured, but I couldn't bring myself to ask. What if I was wrong? "Monsieur Eggnog said that I needed to embrace the spirit of the season, and that I should start with Peace, Hope and Joy."

"Monsieur Eggnog?" I asked, turning back to my current clunker. I think it's a Ford. It's hard to tell.

"My spiritual counsellor," Lula elaborated. Of course. I didn't know whether to hope Monsieur Eggnog was a drink, or an actual person. "He says that if I want to get the most out of this here Christmas season, I need to become one with the sentients."

"Sentiments?" I guessed.

"Whatever. I'm supposed to be all over this peace, hope, and joy shit. Only I can't call it shit. I don't think it works then."

"And you thought letting my skip go free was part of that?" I asked. "How am I supposed to buy Christmas presents? Or pay my rent? I need to bring in some skips!"

"Huh. I hadn't thought of that," she said.

I sighed and hauled myself into my car. I hadn't done enough research on any of my other skips, so I was done until I could sweet talk Ranger into letting me use the search programs at Rangeman. At least I had other skips, I told myself. There was still a chance to earn a pay check and avoid moving into a cardboard box under the freeway.

"You look like you could use some holiday spirit yourself," Lula told me, squeezing her robust form in the passenger seat. "You should try the peace, hope and joy thing, too."

Yeah, I thought. I'll do that right after I tackle a fugitive to the ground and slap a pair of cuffs on him. Oh. Right. I didn't have cuffs anymore.

"And I think the first thing you should do is help make peace between your granny and Morelli's granny."

I whipped my head around and stared at her in disbelief. And horror. And maybe a little fear. This was Grandma Bella we were talking about, after all. She was scary! And, to tell the truth, Grandma Mazur was a little scary too, some days. Okay, any day where she got her hands on a gun. Or Mom's "ice tea". Or Lula's wardrobe. Besides, Morelli and I weren't exactly getting along. Reconciling the families wasn't really the message I wanted to send.

"Why would you think that?" I sputtered, navigating the slush-filled streets of Trenton with grim determination. Winter driving is a sport here.

"Cause you ain't never gonna have peace until you do! You want to always be worried bout the Witchy Morelli giving you the eye? Or your granny poking out the Witchy Morelli's eye? Huh?" Lula smacked the dash for emphasis, and I prayed that she wouldn't send us off course.

"Well, no," I admitted. "But I don't see—"

"All you gotta do is get them together and see that they have something in common!"

"They do?" I questioned. "What?"

She stared at me blankly. "Well, I don't know. I can't do all the work, here! You want peace in your life, you're gonna have to work a little for it. Mm-hmm?"

Yeah. Peace. I could see that happening. Probably right around the time I parked my Lexus in the three car garage attached to my palatial summer home. In the Caribbean. Mm... Caribbean. Drinks with umbrellas. Delivered by cabana boys.

"You still here?" Lula asked, forcing me back to reality. I looked around and saw that I was parked in front of the bond office. No sense going in. I didn't have a body receipt to turn in, and I'd already used Connie's search programs for the remaining skips. Only Rangeman could help me now. I looked at my watch. 4:30 pm. No sense calling Ranger; I was scheduled for dinner at my parents at 6:00.

"Gotta go," I told Lula, waving as she hauled herself out of the car. "I need to change before dinner at my parents."

"Morelli gonna be there?" she asked.

Not likely, I thought. We'd had the mother of all arguments about my lack of training this morning. He'd find out exactly how well trained I was with a gun if he showed his face at my parents. "No."

"Huh. Okay, then. See you tomorrow." And Lula was off, kicking up snow as she picked her way to the door of the bonds office in her thigh-high black stiletto boots.

One shower and a change of clothes later (my mom is picky about not wanting to see me with blood on my jeans), I pulled up in front of my parents' house. Now, I'm used to seeing Grandma Mazur, and sometimes my mom if she's not too busy in the kitchen, standing in the doorway when I arrive. What I'm not used to seeing is two little old ladies. Especially when one of them was Grandma Bella.

"Shit!" I cursed, and then prayed that Bella hadn't heard me. And couldn't read lips. I considered driving around the block (and by block I mean New Jersey), but they'd seen me the minute I turned on to the street. Escape wasn't in my future any time soon.

I parked next to my Dad's car and slowly opened the door. If I'd known Grandma Bella was going to be here, I'd have brought garlic bread. What? It works on vampires. Witches probably aren't that different from vampires. And garlic tastes good. My stomach growled, so I plastered a smile on my face and opened the front door.

"Tramp!" Grandma Bella screeched. "Harlot! Hussy!"

I heard the volume on the television crank up.

"It's good to see you, too," I told Grandma Bella. I kissed Grandma Mazur on the cheek, but when I went to do the same to Bella, she backed away, making the sign of the cross.

"You're a no good girl who tempts my Joseph," she accused.

Okaaaay...

"Dinner's ready," Mom called, and there was a mad dash for the dining room, with Grandma Bella trailing behind and sniffing at our lack of decorum. Or maybe she was checking for garlic. Hard to say. My dad shot her a look as she took her place across from me, but didn't say anything. Probably he was hoping that she would play nice, and he wouldn't have to waste any garlic bread on her. And yes, I knew that the vampire analogy totally didn't work. I mean, she was making the sign of a cross! Would a vampire do that? No. But for some reason, the idea of her crawling into a coffin comforted me, so I kept the vampire thing going. Simple pleasures, right?

After grace we dove into the food, and even Grandma Bella got into the spirit of competitive eating when she stabbed me with a fork as I tried to take the last piece of chicken. Or maybe she was stabbing me for fun. Too close to call, probably.

"So, what brings you by?" I asked, determined to prove that the Plums were, in fact, capable of talking and eating at the same time. Wait. Not _really_ at the same time. I mean, I keep my mouth closed when I chew. Honest!

"I was invited," she said stiffly.

I shot an accusatory glance at my mother. She shrugged and drained her glass. "Wasn't me."

Grandma Mazur snorted. "Not me, either. I got better things to do than invite a kill joy over for supper. And I'm not hanging around to entertain her, either. There's bingo tonight, and I heard one of the prizes is a new set of choppers." She slid her uppers around. "I could use a new set."

Ten minutes later Grandma Mazur was out the door, and I was looking to follow suit. Unfortunately, Grandma Bella didn't seem to have any plans to leave, and Mom wasn't letting me leave until she did. We were sitting in uncomfortable silence in the living while Dad watched a basketball game.

"So..." I said, but that was about as far as I could take the conversation gambit. Luckily, I was saved by the doorbell. I leaped up, narrowly beating my mother to the punch.

"Are we expecting anyone else?" she asked, apparently still a little discomfited over the idea that someone had invited Grandma Bella to supper. After my talk with Lula, I had my suspicions about who the guilty party was, but I wasn't saying.

In any case, I was pleasantly surprised when I opened the door to find Ranger standing on the front step, looking decidedly festive in a black leather bomber jacket. Hey! His black scarf had dark burgundy thread running through it. I'm almost sure of it!

"You busy, Babe?" he asked.

I shook my head wordlessly and motioned for him to come inside. I could feel that Mom and Grandma Bella were already on their feet and standing behind me, eager to see who the latest guest was.

"No can do," he said, moving to stand just inside the entrance. "I need you."

My throat went dry and my hands began to sweat.

"You need me?" I parroted.

He grinned and handed me my jacket from the front closet. "Always."

I shrugged into my jacket, grinning stupidly when he produced a gorgeous sapphire blue cashmere scarf from his pocket and draped it around my neck. "You're going to need this," he told me. Giving the scarf one last tug, he turned to my mother. "I hope it's okay that I steal Stephanie away. She's needed for an important function at work."

Mom nodded, jaw slightly agape as she took in his even more hot than usual appearance.

"Thanks for dinner," I said. My glance flickered to Grandma Bella, but Mom just shook her head.

"We're fine here. You go on. You don't want to keep your co-workers waiting."

Grandma Bella reached for her own coat. When she made eye contact with me, she nodded once sharply. "You're a good girl," she said, her black eyes piercing. "I'll take my curse off your locks. Now your door will only open for welcome guests."

My jaw gaped in surprise, but Ranger was already whisking me out of the door. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the front passenger seat of the Turbo, enjoying the magic of heated leather seats. "Work emergency?" I finally asked.

"Pick up street hockey game," he said, grinning. "We need you to even out the teams."

I blinked.

"Plus, the guys refused to play without you."

I stared at him, trying to judge his sincerity. "You're not kidding," I finally said.

"Babe. Would I kid about hockey?"

Learn something new every day, I guess. "How did you know I was at my parents?"

"I have my sources," he said, the corners of his lips twitching.

"Humph." I crossed my arms over my chest, but I wasn't really perturbed. Getting rescued from Grandma Bella's evil eye to play street hockey with Ranger and the Merry Men? Life didn't get much better than that. Maybe Monsieur Eggnog's Peace, Hope, and Joy Plan wasn't so bad after all.

_to be continued in Part Two: Hope..._


	2. Hope

Written for Babecakesrus' December Prize Winning Challenge on the theme of Peace, Hope, and Love and originally posted December 2011.

Edited by the lovely Stayce.

**Peace, Hope, and Joy**

**Part Two: Hope**

"I'm telling you, this is gonna work," Lula said, tugging at her _almost_-covers-the-ass green skirt. I watched, unable to look away, as it rode up to reveal her matching green thong. She tugged again, causing the already low-cut front of her outfit to reach dangerous new lows. "All we have to do is spend a little time on Stark Street. I'll give those folks a shit load of hope!"

I eyed her warily. "How is dressing in a skimpy elf outfit going to accomplish that?" I asked, almost scared of the answer.

"Huh," she said. "I thought you was smarter than this." She reached back into her Firebird and came out with a hand bell, similar to what Salvation Army Santas rang. "Now you just watch Miss Lula Hope go to work."

I followed close behind, not eager to be left behind on Stark Street. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked, checking out the street corner natives. It was mid-day, but both hookers and drug dealers were out in full force, apparently taking advantage of the slightly warmer than normal temperatures to spread a little early Christmas cheer.

"_Course_ it's a good idea! It's _my_ idea! And I'm acting on advice from Monsieur Eggnog. Can't go wrong," she informed me.

And yet, I could see any number of ways that this could go horribly, horribly wrong...

"Merry Christmas," Lula hollered, making eye contact with each person she passed on the street. "Ho, ho, ho!" she called, approaching three women huddled on a corner.

"You best watch who you calling a ho," one of them protested, and I was surprised to recognize Jackie, Lula's friend from her hooking days. "Just cause you ain't working the streets no more don't mean you can come here and make fun of those of us who still gotta turn tricks."

"I ain't making fun of you, you dumb ass," Lula said. "I'm spreading some Christmas hope, here!"

Jackie and the two other ladies eyed her speculatively. "Yeah?" Jackie asked. "How you fixin' to do that? You win the lotto or something?"

"No, I didn't win no damn lotto," Lula said, hands on hips. "You don't gotta win some stupid ass lotto to have hope. Now, you just take a look at Miss Lula." She smoothed her hands up and down her green outfit, cocking a hip for emphasis. "I'm looking mighty fine, right?"

Jackie nodded, and I had to wonder how high she was.

"And I ain't had to turn no tricks for three years now," Lula continued. "I'm a college student," she said proudly. "I'm _makin'_ something of myself."

Jackie blinked. "So what you're saying is, you're not getting any and you gotta do homework?" She nudged one of the other women on the corner. "Don't sound like such a good deal to me."

"I didn't say I wasn't getting any!" Lula turned to me, outraged. "Did I say I wasn't getting any? No! I said I wasn't turning no tricks. There's a difference, you know." She got in Jackie's face, poking her in the chest. The bell she was carrying clanked loudly, emphasizing her words. "You'd know that if you were bettering yourself at community college, and not spending all your money on dope."

"Hey!" Jackie pushed back, her eyes sparking. "Who you callin' a dope head? Just cause I do a little recreational relaxing don't mean—"

"The hell it don't!" Lula stood her ground, bristling with anger.

"Lula," I said, plucking at her elbow, "Maybe we should go. Probably we've spread enough hope for now."

"No! We ain't leavin til Jackie knows she has options," Lula insisted. "She don't gotta keep workin' for her no good pimp. She can _do_ something with her life! Just like I did!"

And that's when it turned ugly. Jackie took another step forward, causing Lula to shuffle back, unable to move freely in her skin tight skirt. She went down on her rump, landing hard on the sidewalk. The bell rolled a few feet away from her, clanging merrily.

"Oh no, you didn't!" Lula exclaimed, struggling to right herself. Jackie "accidentally" bumped into her again, sending her back to the sidewalk.

"That's it!" Lula muttered. "I'll show you who's making something of herself." She reached out with her black pleather boot clad leg and swept it behind Jackie, sending her to the ground.

Calls of "Cat fight!" erupted, and before I could blink a tight circle of drug dealers, pimps, prostitutes, and curious onlookers had formed around us. I tugged on Lula to try to get her to her feet, but she was scrapping with Jackie, and all I got for my effort was a backhand to the face. I'm not convinced it wasn't Lula, either. And then, it was all claws and bitch slaps and screams until the first siren wailed, indicating the impending presence of police. Most of the crowd scattered, but there was still a fair sized audience when Officer Picky ambled out of the blue and white car, followed closely by an officer I'd never met.

"What have we got here?" Gasprick asked, his tone suggesting that he had a fair idea of what he was seeing, and that it was beneath him.

Lula winced and wiped the blood away from her cheek. Apparently Jackie's long nails had inflicted some damage. Her expression, though, said she was more worried by the presence of the police than by any injury.

"We got a call about some hookers getting into a turf war," he continued, sizing up Lula and Jackie and I.

"Do I look like a hooker?" Lula demanded, finally managing to get to her feet. I stayed on the ground, hoping to disappear. I'd be lucky if I ever saw pineapple upside-down cake again in this lifetime.

Gasprick started to answer, but Lula cut him off. "Don't you answer that. You skinny white men don't know how a real woman dresses." She tugged at her top, flashing a whole lot of boob that stopped just short of nipple. Sweat stains appeared under Officer Picky's arms. His partner, obviously younger and more street savvy, only grinned.

"I'm a co-ed," Lula went on. "At a very prestigious community college. Well, a part-time co-ed. And I work real hard at a respectable job."

I snorted, both at the working hard part and the respectable job part.

"Uh huh." Officer Picky wasn't buying any of it. "I have to take all three of you in," he said, even though he knew exactly who I was. Jackass!

"You're not serious!" I exclaimed, looking down at my jeans and heavy jacket. How on earth could I be mistaken for a prostitute? I'd only put on two coats of mascara! Well, and lip gloss. And possibly a push-up bra. But the jacket was hiding my boobs!

Gasprick smiled, and I shivered at the look on his face. "You resisting arrest?" he asked. "Cause I'd be happy to cuff you." He clanked the metal rings together, and I fought the urge to knee him in the groin. I'd do it, but I figured he'd have a little too much fun adding extra charges. Plus, the only lawyer I could afford was Kloughn. Probably it wasn't worth the risk. It sure would be satisfying, though...

I glared at Lula as Picky's partner shuffled us into the police car. A quick detour, she'd said. To spread some Christmas hope. Some Christmas hope! If I ever got my hands on Monsieur Eggnog, I was going to rip him a new one. Something to hope for, I thought, and my smile started to match Gasprick's.

The ride to the station was largely silent. I was squished in the middle of the backseat between Lula and Jackie, and neither of them were talking. That was the good part. The bad part was that I could clearly hear the chatter on the police band coming from the front of the cop car. I'd be lucky if Mom let me come home for Christmas.

When we pulled up to the station (luckily it was a short drive—Trenton PD is conveniently located in the rough part of town), the officers, including Morelli, Big Dog, Eddie, and Carl were out in full force. Great. I could now add perp walk to my Christmas tradition list. Monsieur Eggnog was going to need corrective surgery if I ever got a hold of him. My humiliation was complete when a black SUV pulled up. Ranger and Tank emerged, both sporting their I'm Thinking About Smiling But Don't You Dare Comment On It smiles.

Lula and Jackie spilled out of the cop car, aided by Gasprick and the still unnamed officer. I went to hoist myself out, not wanting either of the fine officers touching more than necessary. Instead a familiar arm reached for me.

"Babe."

"It's not my fault!"

His lips definitely twitched. "Are you saying you haven't changed professions?"

I glared daggers at him, even though he was completely blameless in this situation.

"Don't sweat it," he said, slipping his arm around my body to simultaneously support me and shelter me from the gaze of the curious on-lookers. "They won't press charges." From the expression on his face, I guessed that if anyone was brave enough to try to book me, they'd regret it. I looked to the precinct and saw Joe looming in the doorway, shaking his head. An expression of mystified chagrin completed the stance.

"Prostitution?" he asked as Ranger and I passed through the doors. "Officer Picky obviously doesn't know about all your "no fly" zones."

I "accidentally" stomped on his foot, earning a muffled grunt from Joe and a slight crinkling of the eyes from Ranger.

"Sheesh," he said, reaching down to massage the foot I'd maimed. At least, I hoped I'd maimed it. "Just for that, maybe I should let Gasprick put you in holding for a while. I was going to vouch for your character and get him to drop whatever charges he's dreaming up, but I'm sure you're perfectly capable of defending yourself against whoever might be in lock-up with you."

A strange growling noise came from somewhere deep inside me, and Morelli took a half-step back.

"Yeesh," he said, exchanging an amused glance with Ranger. "I'll take care of it. I assume you want Lula and Jackie released, too?"

I nodded, grateful that, whatever our differences, Morelli was a decent cop. Twenty minutes later, Lula, Jackie, Ranger, Tank, and I piled into the SUV.

"Where to?" Tank asked.

"The free clinic," Lula said before anyone else could answer. "Jackie is gonna make the most of this here hopeful season and get clean, right?"

Jackie slumped down in her seat. "I guess," she muttered. "It's too dang cold to work my corner, anyway."

I squirmed uncomfortably. It was one thing for Jackie to go into rehab because she wanted to make a positive change in her life. It was another for her to be bullied into it.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Tank will drop you anywhere you want."

Jackie shrugged and looked out the window. "Guess it can't hurt to try again," she said. "Who knows? Maybe this time it'll stick."

Ranger caught Tank's attention and did a funny head jerk thing which apparently meant something to Tank, because he nodded and changed directions, heading away from the free clinic.

"Let's go for lunch first," Ranger suggested.

"I could eat," Lula admitted. "It takes a lot of energy being hopeful all over the place."

Jackie just shrugged, but she looked out the window with renewed interest. We pulled in to Shorty's, and I felt my mouth water. Pino's may be my first love, but Shorty's has an appeal entirely its own. Besides, it wasn't as if I had to worry about the sometimes scary clientele when I was with Ranger and Tank. And so what if there were blood stains on the tables? I probably still had blood stains on my jeans, come to think of it...

Ranger led the way to a table in the back of the restaurant, and Tank disappeared for a few minutes, which I thought was odd. It turned out he was ordering for us, because by the time he came back to the table, Shorty was with him, carrying two large pizzas with everything.

It took until I was halfway through my second slice before I noticed that Shorty was sitting at the table with us. He was talking mostly to Ranger and Tank, but he made a point of including all of us in the conversation. And, if I wasn't mistaken, he spent a fair bit of time trying to get to know Jackie.

"You used to wait tables at Ma's Diner on Route 6?" he asked, slapping his thigh. "I haven't seen Ma in years, but she always made a mean pecan pie. She still make it?"

Jackie nodded, her stringy hair hanging limply. "It's good pie," she said, "but not as good as her cherry cobbler."

"See, now that's just mean," Shorty said, leaning back and rubbing his stomach. "I haven't had pecan pie or cherry cobbler in ages."

"She taught me how to make them," Jackie said quietly, looking down at the pizza on her plate. "She used to have a hard time getting up in the mornings some days, what with her arthritis and all, and she needed someone else to know the recipes." She looked past all of us, as if she were remembering a different time. "That was back when I had a place to stay. I didn't mind the early shift. And the baking was kind of fun, once I got used to it."

"You never told me you baked!" Lula exclaimed. "All those years I knew you, you never once baked me a pecan cobbler, or a cherry pie!" She harrumphed and took another bite of pizza, sauce running down her chin. "You know how I feel about desserts, girl! Next you'll be telling me you're really a gourmet chef or something!"

Jackie shook her head. "I kind of got away from baking a few years ago."

"You still remember the recipes? And how to make them?" Shorty asked, when Jackie's voice died away.

She nodded. "I think so."

Shorty studied her carefully. "You looking for work?" he asked.

"What kind of work are we talking here?" she asked, staring at him wary, weary eyes.

"The kind where you get up early in the morning and go to bed early, too," he said, holding her gaze firmly. "I think it's high time for a menu expansion at Shorty's."

My eyes grew wide. Dessert on Shorty's menu? Pino's was going to have some serious competition! "You _have_ to," I said, tugging on Jackie's arm. "One of these days, I'm going to get permanently cut off from dessert at my mom's. I _need_ more restaurants with good desserts."

"Babe." Ranger's voice was filled with amusement. "You know Ella will bake you anything you want."

It felt wrong to moan thinking about another woman's cooking while in the presence of a restaurant owner, but I did it anyway, much to the amusement of Shorty.

"Say you'll work here," he pressed. "I have an extra apartment above the restaurant if you're looking for a place to stay."

Jackie stared at him. "What's the catch?" she finally asked.

"No catch," Shorty assured her. "As long as you do your job, you'll have a place to live here."

Tank cleared his throat. "You can trust him," he told her. "He did the same for me when I needed it."

"You bake pies?" I asked in what I hoped was an innocent voice.

"No, Babe, that's me," Ranger whispered in my ear. "Except I don't bake them, I eat them."

Season of hope, indeed!

_to be continued in Part Three: Joy..._


	3. Joy

Written for Babecakesrus' December Prize Winning Challenge on the theme of Peace, Hope, and Love and originally posted December 2011.

Edited by the lovely Stayce.

**Peace, Hope, and Joy**

**Part Three: Joy**

"Okay," Lula said, hefting a thigh onto Connie's desk. Connie scrambled to rescue files, a cup of coffee, and a bottle of nail polish. "We covered peace and hope. Now we just gotta work on joy."

We did? I tried to think back. Lula had wanted peace between Grandma Mazur and Grandma Bella, and, strangely enough, it seemed to have worked. There'd been no mention of the evil eye since the time she came to dinner. Lula had wanted Jackie to find hope by entering rehab, but instead she'd gone to work at Shorty's, where she was baking every day, and apparently drug-free. I had a brief flash where I wondered if maybe Lula was really on to something, but it passed quickly when I brushed my still sore cheek, and remembered the humiliation of being dragged into the police station. Freakin' Monsieur Eggnog! My blood pressure rose just thinking about him!

"So, to my way of thinking, Mr. Super Cop didn't look any too happy that day down at the precinct," Lula continued, talking mostly to Connie, but watching me out of the corner of her eye. "And he was real nice and all, getting all of us released so fast. I didn't even have time to break out in hives, or have intestinal difficulties!"

A true holiday miracle.

"So, I thought to myself, who deserves more joy than Officer Hottie? No one! And I know just the person who's going to give him that joy," she finished, looking directly at me.

Oh, hell no! "Lula," I started, but she was on a roll. And no one stops Lula when she's on a roll.

"You still got a thing for Morelli, right?"

I shrugged. Probably I did. It just seemed to get buried under layers of irritation and disappointment lately.

"So, you're gonna do the whole Christmas seduction thing!" she said, beaming with excitement at the brilliance of her plan.

"Oh, no. No!" I protested. This was so not a good idea. Morelli liked sex, but he liked to be in control. He wanted me ready for him, but he still liked being the instigator. Plus, he was a jerk! He still hadn't apologized for our fight about my bounty hunting skills!

"I know men," Lula insisted. "And this will give him lots of Christmas joy, for sure! And it wouldn't hurt you none to get some action. You been real cranky lately."

"Gee, Lula, I can't imagine why! You made me lose my skip, I had to eat dinner with Grandma Bella, I got decked trying to separate you and Jackie, and I got mistaken for a prostitute!"

"See? Real cranky. You need some Italian Stallion lovin'."

Did I? Joe did have his good points. Of course, most of them were located below the waist, but... "I don't know," I said doubtfully.

Lula heaved herself off the desk and got in my face, her hands planted on her hips. "You got a better offer that I don't know about?" she asked.

"That's not the point!" I said. "Joe and I aren't getting along so well. Probably me throwing myself at him would send the wrong message." It would certainly send a different message than my parting words to him after our fight. It was hard to remember exactly, but I recalled something about poxing him with sores in unmentionable places.

"Well, I can see that," she said. "Still, it wouldn't hurt you none to at least make a little trip to Victoria's Secret. That way, if you decide to complete Operation Joe Joy, you'll have all your supplies, if you hear what I'm saying."

I sighed, thinking of my already depleted bank account. Lula's peace, hope, and joy was costing me an arm and a leg. Still, a girl could never have too much pretty lingerie.

"I know a girl working at Victoria's Secret," she continued. "I can't shop with you 'cause I got to go bring joy to someone else, if you know what I'm saying, but I'll set you up with her and she'll give you a discount."

Bonus! I didn't have to shop with Lula (I'm not really a leopard print kind of girl) _and_ I was getting a discount! An hour later, I was happily sorting through bras, panties, teddies, and slinky nightgowns and getting a little excited in spite of myself. It was Christmas, after all!

I was examining a particularly daring red nightie with white fur trim when the room went quiet, the way it does when a group of women hones in on the one attractive, available man in the vicinity. I looked up, and sure enough, Joseph Morelli was poking through a lingerie display, hanging on to several items. Huh! I guess great minds really do think alike. Either that, or Lula put him up to coming down...

I ambled over, still holding the red Mrs. Claus-esque outfit.

"Steph!" he said, jumping when I tapped him on the shoulder.

"Doing some Christmas shopping?" I asked, grinning.

He shoved his hands behind his body, attempting to hide the items he'd gathered.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," I teased, waving the outfit in front of him.

His eyes kind of glazed over when he saw the red satin and fur, and I took advantage of his momentary lapse to pluck the items he'd chosen out of his hands. The colours were gorgeous, I noted. Bold jewel tones mixed with the occasional light purple and black. Which was a surprise. Joe didn't often buy me lingerie, but when he did, he usually chose pastel pink or white. I examined a pair of panties closer. Size small. Huh. Joe knew I wore a medium. Boy cut. Just last week we'd had a discussion about how I didn't like the way they made my hips look. Huh.

I looked up to find Joe staring at me, his expression pained. I handed the lingerie back to him. "I'm sure Terry will love these," I said, doing my best to keep my voice level.

His mouth flapped, but nothing came out. "Um, yeah," he finally said, his eyes darting toward the door. "Should I be worried that you're going to mow me down with the Buick?" he asked.

It wasn't much by way of apology, but it was about all I could ask for. I _had_ called him an evil doer and told him to suck gas and die. Probably I shouldn't have watched that Darkwing Duck marathon... Still, it wouldn't hurt to let him sweat a little, so I just shrugged. Might as well keep him on his toes.

"So, was this for me?" he asked, running a finger over the white fur of the outfit I was still holding.

I snatched it away from him. "No. Definitely not."

"It totally was," he said, smirking.

At that moment, I revamped my position on vehicular revenge. "You're scum, Morelli. And I'd watch my back if I were you."

The bastard just laughed and headed to the counter to pay for his purchases. Well, hell! At least now he didn't have to hide the fact that he was seeing Terry. Probably Lula's plan had worked. If I had to guess, I would say that Joe was feeling a whole pile of joy.

And then, through the red haze of my anger, I heard the most wonderful sound.

"You shopping without me, Babe?"

I turned, and there was Ranger, standing not three feet from Joe, but talking to me. The Mrs. Claus outfit started to slip from my fingers as I pondered the many ways this scenario could turn ugly, but Ranger rescued it, crossing the distance between us in the blink of an eye. All around me, I heard a collective sigh as the female shoppers spotted him.

Joe's face turned the same shade of red as the Mrs. Claus outfit for a minute, but he calmed quickly. Probably the knowledge that he couldn't really get mad at Ranger for pursuing me while Joe was buying lingerie for another woman had something to do with that. He shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts.

"Hey, you don't happen to know why Grandma Bella suggested I get you a hockey stick for Christmas, do you?" Joe asked, looking perplexed.

I exchanged a look with Ranger. The corners of his lips twitched. Not so much that Joe would notice, but I certainly did. "I have absolutely no clue," I said, struggling to keep a straight face. Thinking back to the pick-up street hockey game I'd played with Ranger and the Merry Men, I added, "but it's not a bad idea. You know, the exercise and all."

Both men stared at me then, but I only smiled blithely. "See you around, Joe," I said, and what do you know, I think I might have felt a little bit of joy as he walked away.

_to be continued in Part Four: And the Greatest of These_


	4. And the Greatest of These

Written for Babecakesrus' December Prize Winning Challenge on the theme of Peace, Hope, and Love and originally posted December 2011.

Edited by the lovely Stayce.

**Peace, Hope, and Joy**

**Part Four: And The Greatest of These**

"I'm starting to think there's something to this Monsieur Eggnog guy," I said in a whisper to Connie. Glancing over my shoulder, I made sure that Lula wasn't about to walk through the door. The very last thing I needed was for Lula to know that I was starting to buy in to her crazy spiritual leader's advice.

Connie raised a bushy eyebrow and replaced the cap on her nail polish. Apparently this conversation was good enough to postpone her white snowflakes on a navy background concept. I glanced down at my short, jagged nails and grimaced. Hauling in skips was murder on a manicure.

"Sit," Connie instructed, and pulled out the big guns. Clippers, files, base coats, top coats, and bottles that I couldn't figure out what was in them. With skill born of practice, she set to work, and I watched in awe as my nails turned into something pretty.

"Tell me why you think this Monsieur Eggnog might not be a complete load of crap," she instructed, biting her bottom lip as she contemplated colours. I watched as she chose a deep red.

"I'll put snowflakes on top," she told me. "Otherwise it'll be too dark for you."

I shrugged and let her go to work. Put a bottle of nail polish in her hand, and Connie turns into an artist. "Well," I said, thinking back on the past week. "Lula wanted to make peace between Grandma Mazur and Grandma Bella. Somehow, Grandma Bella got invited over for supper, and she's been..." I paused. Nice wasn't a word one normally thought of in conjunction with Grandma Bella. "Not nasty," I finally said. "She even gave Joe an idea for my Christmas present!"

Connie snorted. "And it wasn't a one way ticket to Siberia?"

"Nope." I didn't bother explaining what she had recommended. Connie would probably think that the hockey stick was intended to be used as a weapon. "And then there's Jackie," I continued. "Lula wanted to spread hope on Stark Street. That didn't exactly go as planned, but Jackie's off the streets and working a real job. If that's not hope, I'm not sure what is."

Connie nodded and switched to my other hand. "I went to Shorty's the other day. Jackie looks good. Little edgy, but everyone there was ordering her desserts. She's doing okay."

"And then Lula decided that Joe deserved some joy." I smiled widely. "She thought I would provide it for him, but it worked out way better than that. He's practically ecstatic now that he doesn't have to worry about me finding out about him and Terry." I paused. "Of course, he still has to worry about Big Blue accidentally taking a bite out of his ass." I grinned even wider. "I won't, but he doesn't know that."

"Always good to keep a man on his toes," Connie agreed, nodding. She pulled out white polish and set to work creating miniature works of art on each nail. "You sure you're not upset about Joe stepping out on you?"

I waved my hand dismissively, earning myself a smack and a glare.

"Hold still!" she snapped. "Unless you want your nails look like candy canes."

"No, I'm not mad at Joe. I'm glad he's finally moved on. We were in a holding pattern, and him dating Terry ensures that I won't be getting back together with him, even if they don't work out. It actually feels pretty good to know that that door's closed."

"Any other doors open?" she asked slyly, but before I could answer, the door to Vinnie's office opened, and Ranger emerged. Connie almost dropped the nail polish brush, telling me that she hadn't realized he was in the building.

"Ladies," Ranger said. He stood directly behind me, inspecting Connie's handiwork. "Pretty," he said, and I had to repress a shiver from the combination of his words and nearness. Reaching inside his jacket, he withdrew two square envelopes and placed them on the desk. "Invitations to Rangeman's Christmas party," he explained. "I hope you'll both come."

I nodded. Hot Merry Men in suits? You bet I'd be there!

"Babe," Ranger said, his eyes crinkling.

"What?" I asked. Surely he hadn't read my mind...

"You still have an obligation to fulfill," he told me, tapping the envelope.

I groaned, remembering the stakes of the pick-up street hockey game. "But the whole _team_ lost! Why do _I_ have to pay up?"

"Hazard of playing with the big boys. You had leeway during the game. Now you pay."

"You're a sore winner," I told him.

"No, I'm just plain sore. It wasn't easy playing with you on my back," he retorted.

"Well, how else were we going to make it fair?" I demanded. "It's not as if I could body check any of you! Letting me piggy back on someone from the other team evened it out a little."

"Babe. You put Lester in bed for three days."

"That's because he tried to grope me every time I jumped him! Wait. That didn't come out right," I sputtered, watching Ranger's eyes darken.

The inner office door flew open and Vinnie stood in the doorway. "You doing Santos now?" he asked, his beady little eyes glimmering with interest, and what I hoped _wasn't_ desire.

"No!" I exclaimed.

Vinnie turned back to his office in disappointment.

"The rest of the guys on your team are paying up, too. They had to double the physical donations to the children's charity we chose."

Well, that was okay, then. It wasn't like I could afford to donate a whole lot. Lula's peace, hope, and joy might have worked, but it certainly hadn't yielded a material bonus for me.

"So, what do I have to do?" I asked, sighing. Knowing Ranger, I'd probably somehow managed to agree to mandatory gun training for the next six months.

"Oh, it's definitely better as a surprise," he said, his predatory grin causing my stomach to plummet. "Don't worry. I'll provide the uniform."

Uniform? This couldn't be good... Before I could squeeze more details out of him (hey! It could happen!) Lula swept into the office, the door banging shut behind her.

"It's damn cold," she complained, rubbing her hands on her bare thighs. I thought about telling her that she might stay warmer if she actually wore clothes that covered more than traditional underwear zones, but I knew there was no point.

She squealed when Ranger handed her a creamy, heavy-weight envelope just like the one's he'd given Connie and I. "Is that an invitation for the Rangeman Christmas party?" she asked, ripping it open. "Hey! It don't say "and guest" on here." She looked at Ranger expectantly.

"You want to bring a date?" he asked in amusement. Only Lula would want to bring a date to a Christmas party filled with hot, eligible men.

"Not a date, exactly," she said. "I just figured it would be fun to bring Monsieur Eggnog. You know, because of all the holiday shit."

"Monsieur Eggnog," Ranger repeated, not quite as amused.

"He's the one who had the bright idea of getting peace between Grandma Bella and Grandma Mazur," she said.

Ranger raised a brow.

"And he helped me think up my Stark Street plan," she continued.

I grimaced.

"Not to mention the plan to get Joe some happy."

Ranger growled.

"Well, that last one didn't turn out exactly the way I intended," she admitted. "Actually, none of them did, but I think they ended up okay."

"Wait," I said. "I thought those were all _your_ ideas."

"Well, yeah, mostly," she said, but it was said in the tone of voice she uses when she's trying to convince Connie that she'd finished all the filing.

"Bring him," Ranger said, and I had the sneaking suspicious that he hadn't said yes just to appease Lula. _Somebody_ wasn't happy about Monsieur Eggnog sticking his nose in my life.

Lula nodded and poured herself back into her feather-trimmed felt coat. "I'll finish the filing tomorrow," she told Connie. "I got party dress shopping to do."

"_Finish_ the filing? How about _starting_ the filing?" Connie protested. "These papers don't just grow legs and put themselves in the right files, you know!"

But Lula was already gone, the door slamming shut behind her.

I arrived at the Rangeman Christmas party fashionably late. Okay, maybe I wasn't late on purpose. Maybe I was late because I'd eaten a few too many shortbread cookies at mom's the other day, and I was scared to put on the little dress I'd picked out. And maybe my hair had decided to emulate the Wild Men of Borneo. At any rate, the party was in full swing by the time I pulled in to the underground garage. The elevator was waiting for me, and whisked me straight to the fifth floor. The door opened, and I was engulfed in Christmas cheer, Merry Man style.

"Beautiful!"

Lester swept me up, causing my flirty little skirt to skirt dangerous territories. I laughed as he spun me around the room—he was the consummate ladies man, but he always knew how to make me feel good. By the time he released me, Hal was waiting to hand me a drink.

"I can't wait for the gift exchange," he said shyly, and I'm pretty sure he was blushing.

"Oh?" I asked, and he blushed harder.

"Never mind," he mumbled, after Lester gave him a hard look. Hal wandered off again, joining the throng of happy employees.

"What was that about?" I asked, poking Lester in the ribs. "Don't think I didn't notice that look. What's up with the gift exchange?"

I thought about the black ceramic travel mug I'd bought for Binky, and hoped that I hadn't managed to mess up somehow. This was the first year I'd participated in the exchange. Was there some sort of tradition I didn't know about?

"Babe," I heard, and Lester blew out a sigh of relief. Coward!

"Ranger," I replied, hoping to match his calm tone. Oh, who am I kidding? The man looked like perfection in a suit! I think my eyes may have glazed over a little as I drank in his drool-worthiness.

"It's almost time," he said, and I'm pretty sure I licked my lips. Time for what didn't matter. If it was with Ranger, I was game!

"For the gift exchange," he said, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes.

Damn ESP.

"I have your uniform up on seven," he continued.

"So, are you actually going to tell me what I have to do, or is this some sort of test?" I wondered. "Cause if it is, I have to tell you that I'm probably not going to pass."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure the uniform will clear everything up," he said, and I felt a shudder of dread. This _couldn't_ be good. "Do you want help changing?" he asked. "I'm good with uniforms."

"No!" I said. However bad the uniform was, changing into it with Ranger's help would be infinitely worse. The thought of him seeing me in a state of undress gave me a hot flash of desire. If he offered to help with a zipper, I'd probably throw myself at him!

I reluctantly headed up to Ranger's apartment, waving at the security camera to whichever poor schmuck was stuck on monitor duty. When I opened the door to Ranger's apartment, the first thing I noticed was a garment bag draped over the kitchen bar. Okay. Chances were good this was my uniform. Taking a deep breath, I lowered the zipper, and promptly had a coronary. Little spots danced before my eyes as I extended a shaking hand to withdraw the white and red "outfit". When I took a closer look at it, my breathing evened out. It was not, as I had first suspected, the Mrs. Claus outfit that I'd left behind in Victoria's secret. Thank God! It was, however, of the same variety. It just involved a little more cloth. That wasn't see-through.

I carried the outfit to Ranger's bedroom, had mild heart palpitations at the thought of undressing in his room, and pulled out my phone.

"You cannot be serious," I said when Ranger picked up.

"Babe."

"I can't wear this! I'll look ridiculous! And Lester will be permanently attached to me!"

"Lester will be in traction."

Well, that helped. Still, it seemed to be on the wrong side of prudent to don a skimpy Mrs. Claus outfit in a building filled almost entirely by testosterone overloaded men.

"I won't leave your side," Ranger promised. "And the outfit really isn't that bad. Put it on. If you really don't feel comfortable, you don't have to wear it."

I narrowed my eyes. I was helpless in the face of reason, dammit!

"Fine," I muttered. "I'll put it on." I hung up without saying good-bye. Take _that_, Mr. Uniform!

By the time I put the finishing touches on the outfit, I could kind of see Ranger's point. Sure, it was a little revealing, but it wasn't actually that much worse than the dress I'd worn to the party. As long as I didn't bend over or sit down, I would probably be okay. I picked up the phone again and warned Ranger that I was on my way down.

He met me at the elevator, and I had to do a startled double take. Ricardo Carlos Manoso, man of mystery, was wearing a Santa hat. I clapped a hand over my mouth, but it didn't stop the hysterical bout of giggles I could feel welling up.

"You won't be laughing for long," Ranger murmured, shielding me from the sight of the other party goers. He tugged me into the room, placing me in front of him, his hands firmly on my hips.

"Merry Christmas to _me_!" Lester exclaimed, tossing his food filled plate on the table. "Beautiful! You make that outfit look goooood!"

I rolled my eyes and smiled at his deliberately lust-filled gaze. Whatever else he was, Lester Santos was good for a girl's ego.

"Just keep your hands to yourself," Ranger warned. "There will be absolutely no man-handling of Mrs. Claus," he continued in a louder voice. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" most of the men called, and I again had to resist the urge to giggle. Even at a Christmas party, the men were in military mode.

"You might want to take your own hands off her, then," Tank recommended in a low voice, joining us.

Ranger appeared to consider it. "No," he finally said. "I won't be doing that." Tank only smirked, as if he'd expected that answer.

Well, okay then.

"We better get this over with before the men go wild," Ranger said, leading me to a big wing chair that had been pulled from the sitting area on the main level.

"What are we doing?" I asked, though I had a pretty fair idea from my uniform.

"We're handing out the Secret Santa gifts," Ranger said. "Do you think I'd wear this hat for any other reason?"

"I thought it was to match me," I said, batting my eyelashes.

I yelped as Ranger settled himself into the chair, pulling me down with him so that I sat on his lap. My earlier fears about sitting down in the Mrs. Claus outfit turned out to be well-founded.

"Ranger!" I hissed, looking pointedly at my bared thighs.

The bastard grinned. I struggled to get up, but he held me firmly. After a little manoeuvring on his part, my Mrs. Claus skirt did cover more of my legs, but my backside had taken up the slack. With only a thin layer of underwear between my girly parts and Ranger's suit-clad leg, I squirmed, and wondered how I was possibly going to make it through the evening.

"You're covered," Ranger assured me, tugging on my skirt one last time. I gulped when he left his hands on my thighs. Geez Louis! I'd be lucky if I made it another ten minutes without spontaneously combusting!

"First up is Woody," Ranger called, and the tall Texan came forward. Tank, also wearing a Santa hat, rooted through the presents under the tree until he found the one addressed to Woody, and then he handed it to me.

"Merry Christmas, Woody," I said, getting into the spirit of the thing. When he reached down so I could hand him the gift, I pulled him in for a quick kiss on the cheek. The room erupted in cat calls and whistles, and Ranger grasped my thighs tighter, short circuiting my brain.

"It's Christmas," I reminded him, and I could swear I heard him sigh in defeat.

When Woody finished blushing, he opened his present, revealing a lava lamp and a subscription to Playboy. He waved the lava lamp. "Okay," he called. "Who's bright idea was this?"

"It's to improve your game with the ladies," someone from the back of the room shouted.

"And the magazine subscription is for when she leaves you high and dry," Lester continued.

"That's cold, man," Woody protested, his tone injured.

"It's okay," I told him, patting his cheek. "Lester speaks from experience."

"Burn!" Cal crowed, elbowing Lester.

"Next up is Binky," Tank said, interrupting the burgeoning dispute. We handed out gifts for the next half hour, with me giving each Merry Man a kiss on the cheek. Ranger's grip on my thighs became increasingly more possessive, and there were a few times when I suspected he was moving his hands around just a little more than necessary. I squirmed on his lap, and found evidence that he, too, was affected by our seating arrangement. I fidgeted a little more, trying to alleviate some of my tension and pay him back for putting me in this position.

"Playing with fire, Babe," he said, whispering in my ear and letting his fingers graze up the inside of my thigh and come dangerously close to my ruined panties.

A strangled moan escaped me, and Tank glared at Ranger. "Keep it G-rated," he ordered. "Not all of us have someone to go home to."

Ranger lowered his hand about an inch while I blushed. I didn't even bother trying to tug the skirt down—it was an exercise in futility. Probably I should never agree to a bet with Ranger again. But it was hard to be too upset when Ranger was making me feel like the most important person in the room. And I was pretty sure that he would have done that even without the short skirt.

My embarrassment was put on hold when Lula entered the room, dragging someone familiar with her.

"Diesel?" I exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

He grinned, and I got a bad feeling. Ranger muttered something about a headache.

"Tell me you're not Monsieur Eggnog," I gasped.

He grinned wider.

"You miserable little—" I exclaimed, attempting to hoist myself off Ranger's lap and claw his eyes out. Hey—I'd been taking notes during the cat fight on Stark Street. Eye-clawing may not be a recognized fair fighting technique, but it's damn effective.

Ranger placed his hands on my hips and held me down. "He's not worth it," he told me. "Besides, you can't get up right now."

"Why can't I—" I cut my question short when Ranger glanced to his lap and the portion of his anatomy that I was currently hiding from view of his men.

"Right," I said, trying to ignore the hot flush that swept through me.

Diesel and Lula came closer, and one of Ranger's hands abandoned my leg in favour of rubbing his temple.

"You're scum!" I told the tall, blond Unmentionable. "Scum! What were you thinking?!"

"Aw, don't be like that," Diesel said, leaning forward to tweak my nose and glance at my breasts while Ranger made low growling noises and Tank poised for action.

"If you take off my bra, so help me," I warned him.

He backed off, holding both hands high. "I just came to see how Christmas was treating you," he said. Glancing between Ranger and me, he surmised, "It's pretty good, huh? Full of peace, hope, and joy?"

"I'll peace, hope, and joy you!" I exclaimed. "Do you have any idea what I went through because of your crazy suggestions?" I was practically screeching, but I didn't care. He had it coming! Ranger abandoned his temple in favour of holding me in place so I didn't start a fight.

"Hey! They were _good_ suggestions," he protested. "They worked, didn't they?"

Well, maybe. But I wasn't going to tell him that.

"And I can see that the fourth and best sentiment of the season is already covered," he said, sliding a sly look toward Ranger. I twisted just enough that I could see Ranger's angry glare.

"What fourth sentiment?" I demanded. "Lula? Do you know what he's talking about?"

But Lula was already at the buffet table, loading a plate with wings, chips, and sweets.

"Think about it," Diesel said, chucking me on the chin. "I gotta run," he said, and he turned away. "Merry Christmas, Stephanie!"

"Merry Christmas," I returned, shaking my head at his retreating back. "Do you have any idea what that was about?" I asked, turning to Ranger.

He shook his head. "No. But the gifts are all handed out, and I'm tired of playing Santa. Want to finish this party up on seven?"

Ignoring Tank's groan as my "uniform" shifted, I stood up, pulling Ranger with me. "I don't know. Do I get to take off the uniform?"

"_Definitely_."

"That's not what I—" I started to say, but Ranger was already whisking me to the elevator. Well, he tried. We were stopped by almost all of the Merry Men, who wanted to say thank you, or get one more kiss from Mrs. Claus.

"Show's over," Ranger finally said, tugging me into the elevator car. He pulled my back flush against his front as he leaned against the far wall, and I could swear he smirked at the men as the door whisked closed.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Claus," he murmured, sliding a hand up my thigh, all the way to the good parts.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Claus," I returned, gasping as he got serious about driving me to the edge. "Not in the elevator!" I whimpered, not wanting to give the guys on monitor duty more of a show than we already had.

"Babe. You had me hard as a rock in front of my men the entire evening. _And_ I wore a Santa hat."

"Yeah," I said, plucking the hat off his head. "I really liked that part."

"The hat?" he questioned.

I raised my eyebrows. "That, too."

"Babe."

I laughed in delight, squirming in his embrace until I was tucked securely in his arms. He leaned down and touched his lips to mine, a gentle caress that was somehow even more intimate than what his talented fingers had just been doing between my legs.

"Thank you for what you did tonight," he said, keeping his face close to mine.

I pulled back far enough to give him a questioning look. "All I did was dress in a short skirt."

"You made Christmas special for the men," he said. "Most of them don't have girlfriends, and a lot of them don't have family. It meant a lot to have you here, spreading Christmas cheer."

"It was fun," I told him. "I like all your men."

He didn't look quite as happy.

"And I really liked the opportunity to sit on your lap all night," I continued. "Besides," I said, rubbing against the bulge in his pants, "It's not every day that a girl gets exactly what she wants from Santa."

Ranger chuckled, and I decided it I had never heard a sound I liked better. The elevator door opened and he drew me into his apartment. I still wasn't completely sure what the fourth sentiment was that Diesel had been mumbling about, but whatever it was, I liked it.

_fine_


End file.
